


fill my empty room with the sun

by chilledsunshine



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, june prompt: absolution, just a little bit of a ficlet/drabble, mentions of character death from finale, slightly mature- mentions of sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-10
Updated: 2016-06-10
Packaged: 2018-07-14 05:58:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7156382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chilledsunshine/pseuds/chilledsunshine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Afterwards, he learns, that Absolution isn’t just a town in Montana.</p>
            </blockquote>





	fill my empty room with the sun

**Author's Note:**

> Just a tiny ficlet/drabble with TFSN June Prompt of: Absolution. Hardly any plot, slight angst, slight fluff, etc etc

         Into the corners of the night, he says her name like absolution. Its funny, now, that darkness is still associated with pockets- like it doesn’t surround them constantly and consistently.

          As she unravels herself from on top of him, he learns to enjoy moment of the  _after._  Of when they’re silent and unclean, of the few seconds before she presses against the mattresses and leaves the warm sheets to walk to the bathroom. Oxygen inflates his lungs, blood cycles through her arteries; this is the closest thing they’ll come to being domestic.  It’s almost the same feeling of turning in a completed exam ( _Jemma laughs at that when he tells her later- he always called her the odd one._ ), but thoroughly more enjoyable.   _No, no, it’s not,_ he suddenly thinks,  _as exams are graded._

_(he briefly disremembered whom he’s with- she has a comprehensive chart, complete with a gold star stickers.)_

          His room has corners, as in, actual, physical, non-metaphoric corners in which two walls conjoin. There’s a feeling that conjures beneath his ribs when he really ponders the structure of a corner- of a crook.  Honestly, he’s not trying to think to right now, but he can’t help it but find symbolism and poetry in everything after the things they did tonight.

         Life, he realizes, is just a systematic program of before and  _after;_ of causes, of effects, of causation and correlation.  They’re both scientists dealing with analyses and data, but living between shades of grey. 

_(They might have turned towards the light, but that doesn’t mean they shed their shadows)_

         The significant  _swoosh_ is heard- and the exposed plumping above him comes to life when she turns the sink’s taps behind the closed door. His personal-  _and exclusive-_ iceberg is coming back to bed. Personally, he feels triumphant to know exactly the path she’ll take climb back into bed: on her tippy toes, fingers detangling her hair, taking the least amount to steps to launch herself from the cold floor to the warm bed.  

         He grabs the sheets and parts them, so she’ll just fall right back next to him. While it’s just as lovely, the  _after_ is over, and the spell is broken as she curls her hand on his chest.

         “ _Jemma,”_ he hoarsely whispers _,_ “ _do you think we should- after what’s happened- and Lincoln, and-”_

         There are so many answers she will give in the future: so many renditions of reassurance. However, this, this is a newer wound that needs both exasperation and absolution. He didn’t try to sacrifice his life for hers today, but she saved his with a theory from seven years ago. The universe does not recognize quid-pro-quos, and that’s a joyous revelation. 

 _“Yes. We should. You’ve it all wrong- I’m the one with guilt issues. You’re the one with a  mad need to be the sacrificial lamb,”_ and she pauses, adding, “ _Besides, we have to uphold Daisy’s projections of us post-coital. Have you found a way to administer the beta testing for the inhuman vaccine?”_

         He looks down at her, with slight smile disguised as both a grimace and a question.

        “ _Fitz, I’m always interested in your delivery systems. Especially in bed.”_

**Author's Note:**

> *slight PSA: always pee after sex, people! it's not explicitly mentioned- but Jemma Simmons would hate for anybody (esp herself) to have a UTI. I know it's not super sexy, but neither are UTIs.


End file.
